


Work Do

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bad Jokes, Banter, Crush, F/F, Fake Dating, Nipple Play, Piercings, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Dancing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:07:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29613348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Some day, Bill would forgive the Doctor.Well, for some things. Probably she'd forgive him for the time with the caterpillar tacos, or the time he's accidentally taken them to the nudist peace treaty, or the time he'd made the weird monster thing explode all over her favorite shirt.But the fact that he had been holding out on her that he knew one of the most beautiful women that Bill had ever laid eyes on... that was a crime. An all out crime on Earth, and possibly on all the other planets, too."I'm Martha Jones," said the vision of loveliness in front of Bill. "I used to travel with the Doctor, back in the day. A few faces ago, though. I don't remember you looking this... craggy."
Relationships: Martha Jones/Bill Potts
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21
Collections: Black Is Beautiful 2021





	Work Do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Val_Creative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/gifts).



Some day, Bill would forgive the Doctor. 

Well, for some things. Probably she'd forgive him for the time with the caterpillar tacos, or the time he's accidentally taken them to the nudist peace treaty, or the time he'd made the weird monster thing explode all over her _favorite_ shirt. 

But the fact that he had been holding out on her that he knew one of the most beautiful women that Bill had ever laid eyes on... that was a _crime_. An all out crime on Earth, and possibly on all the other planets, too.

"I'm Martha Jones," said the vision of loveliness in front of Bill. "I used to travel with the Doctor, back in the day. A few faces ago, though. I don't remember you looking this... craggy." 

Bill managed to mumble out her own name, and mentally kicked herself for not taking the time to do anything with her hair before hopping onto the TARDIS. 

"You've moved up in the world," the Doctor said to Martha, seemingly unimpacted by the sheer _hotness_ in front of them. "Literally and figuratively. What are you doing in Iceland?"

"Oh, y'know," Martha said, and she smiled, making the room that much brighter and Bill's face that much hotter. "With UNIT being shut down, I figured I'd go someplace quiet, do my own thing for a little bit." 

"And that meant Iceland? There's nothing to _do_ in Iceland, apart from whale watch and get into arguments with the trolls around the place!" The Doctor wrinkled his nose. "What about your family, don't you miss them?"

"There's plenty to do in Iceland," Martha countered, "and they've been doing a lot better. Tish is engaged!"

"Good on her," said the Doctor. "I hope whoever it is isn't some crazed old man who's about to re-sequence his DNA to transform into some kind of evolutionary dead end." 

_Is he making small talk? I didn't know he could make small talk._ Bill put her hands in her pockets, watching the two of them. _Inasmuch as you can ever have small talk with something to do with the Doctor._

"It happened _one time_ ," Martha complained, and she put her hands in her pockets, rocked on her heels. "So what brought you here?"

"Evil whales," said the Doctor. "Well, Bill wanted to go someplace on Earth -"

"I didn't say on Earth, I said not too weird," Bill cut in. "We've been doing a lot of weird lately," she told Martha, and she wasn't even stammering, go her! "I thought it might be nice to do something a little... less so." 

"But every place is weird," the Doctor continued, talking over her, "so I figured we'd go someplace on Earth, and go investigate the evil whales."

"See, that's what I don't understand," Bill said, momentarily overcoming her awe at Martha to point out the flaws in the Doctor's comment. "How can a _whale_ be evil?" 

"Well," said the Doctor, "there's a whole bunch of different types of evil whale. For example -"

"It's bad luck to say any of their names," Martha interrupted. "At least, the locals tend to believe so. They think it draws their attention."

"No such thing as luck," said the Doctor. "Luck is for tortoises."

"Which do not, in fact, live on Iceland, so there we go," said Martha, spreading her arms wide. "So you came here to investigate evil whales and somehow ended up parking the TARDIS right next to my back gate?" She raised one perfect eyebrow, and Bill wanted to drop to her knees right there and then, and proclaim how unworthy she was. "Although," she added as an afterthought, "this might end up being the solution to an issue that I've been trying to figure out."

"Considering how much I owe you, Martha Jones, I would be delighted to help you," said the Doctor, and Bill looked at him sidelong. What had Martha done, to get _that_ kind of promise from her? "I assume Bill would be happy as well, although you're welcome to stay in the TARDIS," he said, addressing Bill this time.

"No," Bill said quickly. "No, no, I'd be happy to help. Always happy to lend a hand, me. I'm just... handy like that." _Shut up,_ she screamed internally, and she pasted what she hoped was a genuine smile on her face.

Martha, in her thick grey sweater and her hair in braids, smiled back, and Bill's whole stomach did a flop like she was on a rollercoaster. _It isn't fair for one woman to be that beautiful_ , Bill thought fervently, as the three of them made their way down the path and towards the small house. _Not fair at all._

-*-

"You need a date to your work do?" The Doctor put down his scone, and he looked faintly offended.

"Oi," said Martha, and she wrinkled her nose. "When you put it like that, you make it sound so... unsavory." 

"That's so... petty. So human! Why are you bothering me with -"

The Doctor was cut off by an elbow in the ribs. "You're being rude," Bill told him firmly.

"But it's true! There are more important things in the universe than Martha having a date to a work do. I daresay there are more important things on Earth - even more important things on _Iceland_ that are -"

Another elbow to the ribs, and he made a disgruntled noise.

"As a point of fact," Martha said, resting her elbow on her knee and looking at the two of them with something that looked like obvious enjoyment, "I'm _not_ bothering you. You came here, remember?"

The Doctor deflated, and he made a face. "We did, didn't we?"

" _And_ you said you'd be 'delighted to help me,' not even fifteen minutes ago," Martha said. 

"Yeah, but I thought it would be a _proper_ adventure. Something to do with the evil whales! There've been reports of strange things in the water 'round here, I thought you were investigating that!"

"There's always something going on," Martha said. "If it's not evil whales it's trolls in the mountains or fairies in the hills -" 

"A hill is just a mountain that isn't trying hard enough," the Doctor said, but Bill ignored him. "Why'd you move here, if there's so much stuff to be investigated?" The Doctor added, almost as an afterthought.

"I didn't move here thinking 'oh hey, there's stuff to investigate,'" Martha told him. "But I read a book about Iceland when I was a kid, it had these _gorgeous_ pictures..." She trailed off, and there was a slightly wistful look on her face. "You know," she said to the Doctor, "after all of the traveling you and I did, I still get the breath knocked out of me sometimes by how beautiful the world can be."

The Doctor's craggy face broke into a broad grin, and Bill was grinning back in spite of herself. "Good," was all he said, and then Bill's eyes darted back to Martha's face, and her heart sped up.

_She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life_ , Bill thought earnestly, and then she looked down at her own hands.

"So," the Doctor said, "do I need to wear a tux? Bad things happen every time I wear a tux."

"I've never _seen_ you in a tux," Bill said, her eyebrows going up.

"He looked good, the last time I saw him in one," said Martha. "Although things got a bit chaotic towards the end. And that was before you were quite so... eyebrows." 

"That's why I don't wear tuxes," the Doctor said, and he nodded sagely. "Although it'd make your work do more interesting," he added. "I could wear a tux for that. Might get the attention of some of the evil whales. I could wear a tux and shout their names by the shore, that should get things going well enough." 

"I guess I could say you're my grandad," Martha said doubtfully. She seemed to be ignoring the 

"I could go with you," Bill's traitorous mouth said, before her brain could stop it. "If you don't want people thinking you're some kind of gold digger or... somethin'." Her mouth was very dry. "Not that anyone would ever think you're a gold digger or a sugar baby or anything like that, obviously, since you're doin' great, obviously, but if you wanted to stop having those kinds of rumors, we could go. Together." Bill finally managed to stop the flow of chatter by taking a bite of another little cake.

_I'm going to die_ , Bill thought, as Martha looked at her with a thoughtful expression. 

"That's an excellent idea," Martha said. "And," she added, addressing the Doctor, "you won't have to wear a tux. So win-win, really."

"I'm going to investigate," the Doctor said. "I may even wear a tux, just to make sure that something exciting happens."

"If you screw this up, I'm going to kill you," Martha said, without venom, and Bill fell even more in love with her.

"Why do you care so much? It's just a work party," said the Doctor.

"It's to get funding for my hospital," said Martha, and she sighed. "There's a bunch of... complicated political things I'm not going to go into. But if I don't go with a date, I _know_ this one bloke is going to keep getting pushy, and I don't want to have to put my foot down like the hammer of god."

"That would suck," Bill agreed solemnly. "Nobody likes the hammer of god at work."

Martha grinned. "Exactly." She rubbed her hands together. "I assume the TARDIS still has a fully stocked wardrobe?"

"Of course it does," the Doctor said, and he looked faintly offended. "Why wouldn't she?" 

Martha shrugged. "You never know," she said. "The do is tonight," she added, addressing Bill now. "If you're still up for it?"

"Yeah," Bill said. "Yeah, of course. Wouldn't have offered, if I weren't." She gave what she hoped was a convincing smile, and Martha smiled back. 

"Brilliant," she said, and Bill ate another cake to keep from passing out at the sheer magnificence of her. 

-*-

"How do I look?" Bill stood in the TARDIS control room, and she tried not to fidget. The dress was a bright lavender, the fabric soft against her skin. The hem ended a little above her knees, and the grey tights were thick and cabled, warm enough to keep her from breaking out into a million goose pimples, but still nice enough to not look _too_ practical. 

Hopefully. 

The boots were black, and they gave her a few inches of height. Traveling with the Doctor had broken her of the habit of wearing heels... ever, really. She'd inevitably need to run, which meant taking them off and then carrying them or losing them, and running barefoot was the _worst_. She'd only had to do it a few times before that lesson had sunk in. 

"Nice," the Doctor said, without looking up from the TARDIS controls. 

Bill snorted. "You didn't even look," she complained. 

"You always look nice," the Doctor said, and then he looked back up. "No, you look absolutely horrible, you should wear something in magenta."

"I don't think you know what magenta is," Bill said, making her way towards him.

"It's that eye searing purple-pink, isn't it?" He was fiddling with... something, pointing his sonic screwdriver at a collection of wires. 

"I'm not sure what magenta is either, so I can't really argue with that on that," said Bill. She nudged him gently in the ribs, and he nudged her back. "I've never been to this kind of fancy party before," Bill added, and now her anxiety was starting to bubble in her stomach. "I mean, I've never been to a proper grown up party, and this seems like a fancy grown up party, doesn't it? Versus just hangin' out with your mates."

"A proper grown up party is just hanging out with your mates in fancy clothes, if you're doing it properly," the Doctor said. He gave her what he probably thought was a reassuring look. "There are just sometimes mates you don't like there as well."

"I try not to have mates I don't like," said Bill. "What's the point of having friends around who you don't like?"

"I don't know," the Doctor said, "but I've never been good at any kind of politicking."

"That's a blatant lie," said Bill. "I've seen you talk people into selling you their souls."

"No you haven't," said the Doctor. "I haven't bought a soul in ages."

"Okay, so I'm exaggerating a little bit," said Bill. "But only a little bit." 

"You're delightful," the Doctor said. "Martha is good at people - better than I've ever been. And you're good at people. The two of you together will be a winning combination. Then you can both sneak out the kitchen, have a nice gab with the caterers, get some extra canapes..."

"I've been a caterer often enough," Bill said, wrinkling her nose. 

"There you go," said the Doctor. "You've got plenty of experience being at fancy parties, see?"

"There's a difference between being the catering and being the person who's eating the catering," Bill grumbled.

"Yeah," the Doctor said. "When you're the catering you get to go home with the extra canapes."

"Not if there's a bunch of guests who are sneaking out the back of the kitchen and taking them," Bill said, but she was grinning in spite of herself.

The Doctor made a face. "Just remember you're cleverer and funnier than the majority of that lot," the Doctor told her, "and anyone worth being around won't hold a social blunder against you, unless it's a _really_ egregious blunder." 

"I think you just wanted to use the word "egregious" in a sentence," said Bill, because she was getting vaguely embarrassed at the Doctor's sincerity. 

"I don't get to use it that often," the Doctor said, and he didn't sound defensive. "You need to take words out sometimes, or else they start to smell of mothballs." 

There was a knock at the door, and Bill wanted to run and hide down one of the TARDIS hallways, and she wanted to rush to the door and throw it open. She was spared from having to do either of those things, because Martha walked in. 

"Oh wow," said Martha, and she was looking around the place, eyes wide. "This place hasn't half changed, has it?" 

She was wearing a deep blue dress, tight enough that Bill could see the curve of her hips. The fabric looked soft, and her stockings were black, and looked thick enough to be leggings. The dress fell down around her shins, and she had on a light green cardigan over it, that billowed behind her like a cloak. Her coat was over her arm, and she was wearing sturdy, warm boots.

Bill tried not to stare. She was probably failing. 

"You know how it is," the Doctor said. "You hit a certain age, you want to change your look up a bit." 

"You don't say," Martha said dryly, and she tilted her head, looking him up and down with a thoughtful expression. "I think I miss the spiky hair."

"Spiky hair?" Bill said. "No way did you have spiky hair." 

"He did," Martha said, and she was grinning. "Spiky as everything. Skinny as a rake, too, and wore these blue and brown suits, with red trainers." 

Bill tried to imagine what the Doctor had used to look like. She'd seen a few pictures or mentions, here and there, but as far as she was concerned, he'd always been old and cranky and Scottish.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. 

"I'll drop Bill back here," Martha said. "If the TARDIS isn't here, we can crash on my couch for a bit."

"You're not gonna run off without me, are you?" Bill asked. "I don't have the money to pay for a ticket back from Iceland."

"You can text me," the Doctor said. "Am I ever unreliable?"

"Yes," Martha and Bill said at the same time, and then they made eye contact and laughed. Some of the tension in the room lessened, and Bill's shoulders relaxed from down around her ears. 

"He had us stuck in the sixties," said Martha. "I had to get a job in a shop!" 

“It wasn’t that bad,” the Doctor complained. 

“ _You_ weren’t the one working in the shop,” Martha countered. 

“I don’t want to work at a shop,” Bill cut in. “I tried that when I was sixteen, I’m no good at shops. The advantage of working in the canteen is that I can just zone out and give people chips. Or… whatever.”

“You won’t have to work at a shop,” the Doctor said, and he looked faintly flummoxed. “That only happened the once!”

Martha snorted, and she held a hand out to Bill. “Shall we?”

Bill did _not_ blush or stammer or say anything embarrassing. She took Martha’s hand, and found the other woman’s fingers warm against her palm. Martha’s eyes were equally warm, and Bill’s whole face heated up. 

_I’m so done for_ , Bill thought, and there was a delirious, delighted tinge to her thoughts. _Absolutely doomed._

-*-

“So,” said Martha, as the two of them walked through the parking lot, “we’ve been dating for about a year. Long distance, since you’re back in the UK.”

“Right,” Bill agreed. She was glad for her thick tights, but the wind was cold, and blew straight up along her legs. “And they won’t be weirded out by me being a woman?” She’d been wondering that, since… well. She’d never been the best at reading that kind of thing.

To her own detriment. 

“Nah,” said Martha. “I’ve been using the term ‘partner,’ and my workplace is pretty open minded.” She wrinkled her nose up, staring up at the dim sky. “We met at a... crap, I hadn't thought of that." Martha wrinkled her nose. They were walking towards a parking lot now, and Martha had linked their arms together. 

"A bookshop," Bill suggested. "Everyone loves a bookshop." 

"Alright," Martha agreed. "When I was visiting my family. Our hands touched over a book of poetry."

"That's proper romantic, that is," Bill said, and her whole face was opening in a grin.

"I have my moments," Martha allowed. "So what about your family?" 

"Just have my foster mum," Bill said. "My mum died when I was very small."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Martha said, and she squeezed Bill's hand. 

Bill flushed, squeezed her back. 

"My family and I are pretty close," said Martha. "I go to visit them, sometimes."

"If you're so close to them, why didja move all the way here?" Bill paused. "Sorry, that was an awkward thing to say." 

Martha laughed. They were still holding hands, fingers linked together. "We went through... a lot together," Martha said. "Me and my family, me and the Doctor. And I was working with UNIT for a while as well, and then when they closed, I ended up with time to myself. Had a think about what I wanted to do."

"Yeah?"

"We were... well, it was bad. And complicated." Martha waved a hand. "It's like that with the Doctor." 

"Oh," said Bill. She hadn't encountered anything particularly... unpleasant with the Doctor. Apart from nearly dying. And the business with the Monks. And the light eating thing. 

... Okay, maybe Martha had a point there. 

"Traveling with the Doctor is... amazing. One of the best things I've ever done." Martha sighed, and her expression went dreamy. "I was in love with him," she added, almost as an afterthought. 

"In love with _him_?" Bill blinked, tried to imagine that. Admittedly, she hadn't ever seen the appeal in any kind of man, but... the Doctor? 

"He didn't look like that, back then," said Martha. "You're not the type for older men, I take it."

"Not interested in older men, no," Bill agreed. "Or younger men. Or... any men, really."

Martha nodded, and she was grinning. "That's fair enough, then," she said. 

"But how do you feel about older women, then?" Martha asked.

"Who doesn't love a MILF?" Bill said, then; "oh _god_ , forget I ever said that."

"Nope," said Martha, and she was smirking. "Never forgetting that one." 

"So where's this fancy do gonna be?" Bill asked, because they were still walking through the big parking lot.

"Oh, did I not mention? It's on a yacht." 

"Fancy," said Bill. "I'm glad I'm not with the Doctor," she added. "I feel like, if the Doctor was with us, we'd have to worry about _something_ happening."

"Oh god," Martha said. "I don't want to think about that. It'll turn out that actually the evil whales are some kind of alien that's been living in the Earth oceans for three million years and we're going to have to take it home..."

"I had to save a monster at the bottom of the Thames," Bill said excitedly. There was a queue now, and they got in line for it. The boat was some kind of fancy pleasure vessel, lit up like a Christmas tree, and the way it was bobbing on the waves made it all take on a dreamlike quality. 

"Really?" Martha looked at her, eyebrows up.

"It was back in the day," said Bill. "During Victorian times. The Doctor also punched this one rich arse for being racist."

Martha grinned. "That sounds amazing," she said. "Tell me more."

"Well..."

-*-

Things were relatively quiet. They were early, and there weren't many people about. Bill was introduced to a few doctor (but not Doctor) looking people as "my girlfriend, Bill," which made Bill's insides wriggle happily. The interior of the yacht was quite nice, with a fancy bar and what looked like a dance floor. More people arrived, and then it was like any other party. People milling abou, and they'd occasionally greet Martha with a smile.

Bill shouldn't have gotten butterflies every time Martha said "girlfriend," and yet. 

"So then me and the Doctor are in the Globe theater, and I'm sitting next to Shakespeare, and he's hitting on me - never met someone that flirty before, I swear." Martha laughed, her head tilting back, and Bill followed the lovely line of her throat to the swell of her breasts. 

_She's so beautiful that it's a little bit scary_ , Bill thought. _Maybe I'd be less scared if there was an evil whale trying to eat us._

"Oh," Martha said suddenly, as the music changed. "I _love_ this song."

"D'you wanna dance?" Bill asked, and how could that be a thing that was coming out of her mouth? 

Martha looked at her, surprised. "Dance?"

"Yeah," Bill said, and her mouth was clumsy. "Since, uh, since we're here. It'll look proper couple-y."

"You're right," said Martha, and then she was _patting Bill on the cheek_ with one of her soft, lovely hands. "You're very clever."

"Well," said Bill, "you'd only have a clever girlfriend, wouldn't you?" She smiled. "Since you're so amazing, I mean," she added. "Not because I'm particularly -"

She was stopped by a finger over her lips. "Come dance with me," said Martha, and then she was taking Bill's hand in her own. 

"Full disclosure," Bill said, as she put cautious hands on Martha's waist, "I haven't done this kind of dancing with someone since school discos."

"It's not so hard, is it?" Martha's voice was quiet, teasing. "You do look very nice tonight," she added. 

"Thank you," Bill said. "So do you."

Martha's arms were draped over Bill's shoulders, and they were beginning to sway to the music. 

"I really appreciate you doing this for me," Martha said. 

"I'm happy to help," Bill said. _I'm happy that I got to go on a date with you, even on false pretenses_ , she didn't say, but she was thinking it so hard she was faintly surprised that Martha didn't hear it. 

"I'm glad it was you and not the Doctor," Martha added, her tone thoughtful.

"Because of the evil whales?" Bill tried to keep her tone joking.

"Well, yes," Martha said. "Obviously. But tongues would definitely wag that I've got a thing for older men or have a sugar daddy or... something."

"You could say he was your granddad," Bill suggested.

Martha grinned. "Who goes to a work do with their granddad?"

"Can I ask a question?" It popped out of Bill's mouth before she had a chance to stop it. Really, she needed to work on her impulse control. Especially when Martha was involved.

"Yeah, of course," said Martha. "You're doing me such a big favor, after all."

"Why d'you need a fake date in the first place?" Bill asked. "Since your coworkers seem nice enough, from what I've seen, and I know it's lonely to go to a nice party as a single person, but..." She trailed off. "Sorry."

"People keep trying to set me up with people," said Martha. "I mean, they mean well, but it's been almost a year, and I've met everyone's eligible son and daughter at this point, and they're all very nice but..." She shrugged, looked embarrassed. "I've been to space," she said, and she sounded... sheepish, which was unexpected.

"Me too," Bill said, and _duh_ , of course she had. Martha had seen her come out of the TARDIS, after all.

"And I've been to the past, the future..." Martha sighed. "I was in an alternate reality," she said, and then her voice went quiet. It went _sad_. "I saw the end of the human race," she said, "and I'm... well, I stick out a bit." She wrinkled her nose. 

"Yeah?" Bill wasn't entirely sure what to say. It sounded like Martha had been holding this in for a while. 

"It's funny," Martha added. "You go around being the only human in the room, no problem, but then you're in a room full of humans and you're from elsewhere, and _look_ like you're from elsewhere..."

"Yeah," Bill said. She'd been there herself.

"And everyone is very nice," Martha added, and then she laughed, clearly self conscious, "but I thought it would be like when I was in UNIT, and I was just... part of the group, so even if I looked different, I was still there with a group. I came here myself, but I work for the hospital, and it's..." She took a deep breath, and Bill was surprised to find that she was trembling. "I'm sorry," Martha said suddenly, and she disentangled herself from Bill, walking off.

Bill found herself standing alone in the middle of the slowly swaying couples, and a few of them were shooting her sympathetic looks. _What landmine did I set off this time?_

Bill caught sight of Martha grabbing her own coat, and going out onto the deck of the yacht. 

_She can't leave_ , Bill thought. _The boat is moving. I hope she isn't avoiding me. Maybe I said the wrong thing?_

It was like saying that awkward thing to Heather all over again, and really, why was Bill always such an awkward dweeb when it came to beautiful women?

Still. Martha had looked upset.

Bill walked out onto the deck, and then she shivered, wrapping her arms around herself and squeezing. It was _cold_.

"You're going to freeze your arse off," Martha said from a dark corner, and Bill turned to see her huddled up, clutching her coat around herself. 

"I should be alright," Bill said, but she moved closer anyway.

"Why didn't you bring your coat?" Martha was... opening her arms? The coat fell open, and Bill let herself be enveloped in a hug. 

Bill rested her chin on Martha's shoulder, her arms around Martha's waist. "I was in a hurry," she said, defensive. "I wouldn't be a good girlfriend, even a fake one, if I just let you run out on your own."

"Yeah, but..." Martha sighed, and then she sniffed. 

_Oh no, she's going to cry_ , Bill thought, and she held Martha a little closer to her. The other woman was warm against Bill's front, and the wind was rough against her back. Bill could smell the sharpness of the cold, and the sweet warmth of Martha's hair products, her skin, her lotion. 

"Thanks," Martha said, and her voice was quiet, right in Bill's ear. "For coming with me, for... well." She cleared her throat, and it was very loud in Bill's ear. "I didn't realize how lonely it was, being the only person like me in a room."

Bill leaned back a bit, so that she could see Martha's face. The deck itself was dark, but they were illuminated by the golden light leaching out from the window beside them. 

"I've been there," Bill said. "It's hard."

Martha huffed out a sigh, and it ruffled Bill's eyebrows. There was a rush of wind across the back of Bill's neck, and the combination was making Bill's head swim. Maybe it was that giddiness that made her lean forward, made her press her mouth against Martha's.

Or maybe she was just _stupid_ , and she always got stupid when it came to beautiful women, and this was the worst thing she'd ever done, because where else was she going to meet someone else who _got_ her, how was she going to -

And then Martha was kissing her. Martha was kissing her, pulling her closer, and then she was being turned around and pressed against the ( _cold_ ) wall, and Martha's mouth was hot, Martha's breasts and belly were soft and warm, Martha's fingers were clutching at Bill's dress. It was a sweet, hot kiss, like something out of a certain class of romance novel, or maybe one of the Star Trek fanfics that Bill perused when she was in the right mood.

Martha's tongue was in her mouth, Martha's hands were on her face, and then they were pulling apart, and the cold air was like needles in the chest. It tasted almost sweet, mixed with the salt of the ocean, and Martha's lipstick was waxy on her lips.

"Sorry," Bill said, and her voice cracked.

"What are you sorry for?" Martha sounded like she was trying not to laugh. They were pressed so close together that the wire of Martha's bra dug into Bill's ribs. 

"I'm being awkward," Bill said, and she gave an anxious little chuckle. "I haven't... I mean, I don't usually..." She cleared her throat. 

"What, kiss on a first date?" Martha raised an eyebrow. She looked amused, thank fuck.

"Does this count as the first date?" Bill asked. "I feel like it shouldn't count as a date if it's under false pretenses."

"It can be false pretenses, but still be a real date," said Martha. A gust of wind made the boat roll, and Martha shuddered. "Oh wow, that's cold."

"Sorry," Bill said, then; "I don't usually apologize so much, I'm sorry."

"You are _utterly_ adorable, you know that?" Martha pinched Bill's cheek, and Bill's face got hot. 

"I dunno if that's what I was going for," Bill said, wrinkling her nose. "I've always wanted to pull off dashing. Dashing always feels like it's exciting, it's got a sexy edge to it."

Martha took Bill's face in her hands, and they were beginning to get cold from the wind off the sea. She kissed Bill, with her tongue and her teeth and her lips, and Bill seemed to be melting into the wall, sliding down against it. When they broke apart, Bill was trembling. 

"Adorable," said Martha, "doesn't mean not sexy." She rubbed their noses together. "But we should probably go back inside, before we freeze something off." 

"Your makeup is... a mess," Bill said. "Although I don't think mine is any better, is it?"

"Nope," Martha said cheerfully. "You're a proper mess."

"I'm ruining your reputation," Bill said. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize," Martha told her, and their fingers were lacing together now. "Might get Edda down in accounting to stop trying to set me up with her grandson."

"Might get her trying to set you up with her granddaughter," Bill pointed out.

"Her grandson is an idiot," Martha said, opening the door, "so it could only be an improvement." 

Bill couldn't help laughing at that. "C'mon," she said, tugging Martha by the hand. "Let's go freshen up." 

-*-

Bill let herself be pushed into the stall of the yacht's bathroom, and Martha was pulling her face down. They were kissing again, and that hadn't been why they'd come in here, they'd come in here to fix their makeup, and then Martha had looked at her sidelong and pushed her into the stall, and now...

"You are just _so_ gorgeous," Martha whispered into Bill's mouth. "You're so cute, and I haven't been able to take my eyes off of you." Her hands were going from Bill's face to Bill's sides, then moving around, to cup Bill's breasts, cupping them through the soft fabric.

There were calluses on her hands that caught on the soft fabric of Bill's dress, and Bill sighed, her eyes glancing over towards the stall door. 

"Anyone can walk in," Bill said.

"We're in a stall," said Martha, then she paused. "Sorry," she added. "It's.. it's been a while. For me. And. Um." She cleared her throat, looked embarrassed. "If you want to come back to mine afterwards, instead of -"

And then it was Bill's turn to kiss Martha, holding on to Martha's face, then getting bolder and grabbing Martha's backside. She pulled the other woman closer to her and she moaned into Martha's mouth as Martha plucked at her nipples, tugged on them. 

"Why not both," Bill murmured against Martha's mouth, and Martha snorted. "Although," Bill added, "aren't you worried about one of your coworkers walking in on you in flagrante delicto?" 

"That's an impressive word," said Martha, and she was grinning.

"I _am_ in university," Bill reminded her. "Even if I did just start out as a canteen worker," she added, sheepish in spite of herself. 

"We all start somewhere," said Martha, and then she was kissing along Bill's neck, her mouth moving to Bill's ear. She sucked, and Bill's knees went weak. She sagged against the wall of the stall, her eyes fluttering shut and her chest heaving as Martha groped across her chest.

"But you're not... you're not w-w-worried about..." Bill trailed off.

"Nope," said Martha. "I've walked in on much worse," she added, and she sounded faintly amused in spite of herself. "Give everyone something interesting to talk about." She was pushing Bill's dress up, and Bill helped her, hauling the soft fabric up over the curve of her breasts.

And then Martha paused, her eyes going wide. Her gaze darted between Bill's breasts, covered by the thin lace of the bra, then to Bill's face. "You didn't mention you had pierced nipples," she said.

"Not a thing that comes up often, does it?" Bill said, and there was something faintly embarrassing about standing there with her dress up. At least everything was clean, and fairly new. Possibly created by the TARDIS, which was weird, or left over from one of the Doctor's previous companions (who was... the exact same size as Bill, which was also weird, but in a different direction). 

"I suppose I couldn't think of a way to ask about that, no," Martha admitted. Her hands were at Bill's breasts now, carefully sliding the barbells of Bill's nipple rings back and forth. It was an odd, tugging sensation, and it made Bill bite her lip to keep from making any embarrassing noises.

As small and tiled as the bathroom was, it would echo like a cave.

"Did it hurt?" Martha gently tugged at Bill's nipples, still through the bra.

"Like hell," said Bill, and she gasped, her chest heaving like something out of a romance novel. "I mean it hurt like hell," she added quickly. "Not, uh, not me being dismissive and saying "let hell it hurt" or something similar to that." She gave a nervous laugh which morphed into another awkwardly bitten off moan, as her nipples were twisted in different directions.

"I got what you meant," Martha said, and she was grinning. "Are you always this easy to fluster?" Another twist.

"I'm not... I mean..." Bill's mouth was very dry. "This isn't the normal circumstances when I might get flustered." She paused. "But yeah. When beautiful women are involved, I can be."

"Aw, you flatterer," said Martha, and then she was ducking forward, her braids ticklish against Bill's chin, and there was her hot mouth again, moving down the line of Bill's throat, wrapping around Bill's nipple. It was... odd, through the lace of the bra; and she tilted her head back, until it hit the wall of the stall with a gentle _thud_.

And then the door opened. 

Bill froze, and Martha gently nibbled on her breast. 

"Such a nice party this year," said a voice. It wasn't familiar, per se, but Bill didn’t know anyone around here anyway. Martha was shoving down the cup of Bill’s bra, and Bill had to cover her mouth to keep from making any embarrassing noises.

"So nice to meet that mystery partner of Martha's," added the other woman.

_They've got British accents, I wonder why I'm just now noticing this_ , thought Bill, then; _oh gosh, her tongue._

"Her Icelandic is getting so much better, too," said the second person. "She was speaking like she was born and raised here!"

Martha froze against Bill, and then she gave a silent little huff and pressed her face into the soft space between Bill's breasts.

Bill frowned. 

The two women moved on to... whatever local gossip was going on. Martha's hand stroked across Bill's belly, and she mouthed at Bill's other nipple.

_You kinky thing_ , Bill thought, and she was grinning. Then she was biting her own knuckle, because Martha's hand was slipping down the front of her tights, her knickers. She looked down into Martha's face, and she saw that Martha was grinning. 

Her hand hovered over Bill’s vulva, pulling back the thin fabric of Bill’s tights and knickers. She made eye contact, one eyebrow up. The heat of her body was scalding, and it was making Bill tremble. 

The two women were _still_ talking, as the sink ran, and Bill’s hand came up to cover Martha’s own hand, pressing it against her own sticky, wet vulva.

Martha’s teeth bit into Bill’s breast, and then Martha’s finger was swirling over Bill’s clit, and Bill squeezed her eyes shut, as her cunt squeezed around nothing. _Fuck_. 

The door opened, and the two women left. It was the two of them again, and the very tips of her fingers were dipping into Bill’s cunt, and Bill’s interior muscles were trying to pull Martha's fingers in that much deeper. 

“You know,” said Martha, “the Doctor is making my life difficult. Again.” She had two fingers inside of Bill, and was carefully moving them, in and out. Her thumb was rotating over Bill’s clit, and her other fingers were fiddling with Bill’s damp nipple, gently tugging on the barbell. 

“What’d he do?” Bill’s hips were rolling, awkwardly riding Martha’s fingers, the sweet pleasure already beginning to build in the base of her gut.

“That bloody… _translation circuit_ ,” Martha grumbled. “Everyone is gonna think that I’m one of those weirdos who speaks perfect French when they’re drunk.” She gave another twist of her fingers, and Bill’s teeth dug into her own knuckle, to keep from making any more embarrassing noises. 

“Is that… is that why everyone has a… a British accent?” Bill groaned, low and deep in her throat, and Martha’s fingertips were pressed firmly against Bill’s g-spot.

‘That’d probably be it, yeah,” said Martha. “You’re getting tighter. You think you’re going to come already?” She was asking it so casually, and something about that made Bill wetter, her whole body curling forward.

“I’m… yeah,” Bill said, her tongue thick. “Are you… do you do this often?” 

“No,” said Martha, “but I must say, if it’s this fun…” Another twist, and her thumb pressed a little harder on Bill’s clit. 

“Fuck,” said Bill, and her voice cracked. “I…”

“C’mon,” Martha said, and she began to thrust her fingers faster. ‘I know you have it in you. I want to feel you come.”

Bill couldn’t really say no to that, could she? Or maybe it was the fact that a beautiful woman was fucking her, a beautiful woman was pushing her closer and closer, she was… she was kind of lost, wasn’t she?

Bill came around the fingers inside of her, a rolling, aching sort of climax that left her limp, her chest heaving and her eyes fluttering. She whimpered, staring at Martha wide eyed, and Martha grinned.

“I’m not gonna ask you to return the favor,” Martha said, as she withdrew her fingers. She licked them, slow and careful, still with the eye contact. “At least, not now. But… when we’re back on land, how about we go back to mine?”

Bill pressed herself against Marhta, and she kissed the other woman, wet and sweet. She cupped the back of Martha’s head in her hands, and she felt the other woman tremble against her. Martha sighed against her mouth, and Bill tasted the little traces of herself on Martha’s lips. 

Then they both froze, because the bathroom door had opened again.

“First things first,” Bill whispered, “how about we figure out a way to get out of here without arousing too much suspicion?” 

Martha was grinning, as she carefully helped Bill pull her bra up, then roll her dress down. “Hasn’t traveling with the Doctor taught you anything?” She asked, and her voice was very quiet. “Improvise.”

So. 

It seemed that some things were universal, when it came to the Doctor or the Doctor’s people. 

Well. 

She could definitely work with that!

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not have set this fic in Iceland so I could make the "Martha Jones, you've moved up in the world" joke. Possibly.


End file.
